Drowbane
by Silver Dragon23
Summary: This is part one of a story about a young elven woman who is shunned by the humans of her hometown. When she leaves the town, she is attacked by drow and then visited by Shevarash, the elven god of Vengeance. ..This is my first story, please review.


This is a story about an elven woman named Kiyralynn.   
  
She was born in Eastern Sembia to a rather poor family. Actually she was born to a mother, having no father. The story behind that, however, is one I choose not to tell. Kiyralynn was a strange one, having hair of golden auburn and eyes of pure gold, no white, which is strange for an elf. Her mother died in childbirth and Kiyralynn was taken to a place far from Sembia. Mostly she grew up on her own, her only guardians being a couple of rather snobbish merchants who had offered to take in the girl. She could remember very little of her mother, or where she came from. When she was around thirteen, she left them as well, having taken far too much of their rude commands. As she went out alone, she noticed that most people did not take to her kindly. As she walked the streets of various towns, people scattered away from her. Mothers pulled their children away as she passed by. Windows closed around her.   
  
Finally, at the age of roughly 20 (that is, for human standards-she is an elf after all.) she settled into a small berg of a town. By this time she had developed a talent for handling the bow and arrow, and sword. She put these skills to good use by participating in hunts with the rest of the townsfolk, hoping to gain their trust. But still the people were afraid of her. But she put up with their cold looks, their cruel remarks about her appearance and her heritage. Slowly, however, she grew to hate humans. She spent less and less time around them, and more and more time to herself, locked away. One day when she was out, a young boy came up to her, surprisingly.   
"You are a monster," the boy said. "A monster who doesn't see!"   
It took all of Kiyralynn's willpower not to strike the child. Before she could say anything or do anything to scold the child, he had run back to his mother, who was staring angrily at Kiyralynn, as if she had done something wrong.   
She left the next day.  
  
Packed up her things and headed off on a desolate merchant's road to somewhere, not knowing where the road would take her or where it would end. The few people that passed her shied away rather quickly, as if apprehensive of her appearance. She tried to avoid them as well, partially afraid of them, partially burning with rage.   
On the third day of her travels she realized that she had not seen one person on the road for a long while. It seemed darker and gloomier on this section of the road. She slowed apprehensively, on the watch for anything unusual. Her sword in hand, she walked down the road with a stiff determination.   
Suddenly out of the darkness leapt three figures, cloaked and wielding strangely curved swords. Kiyralynn was on the alert somewhat, but not ready for their attack. She recognized them as drow elves, the evil cousins of the surface elves. They were few and far between here on the surface, living mostly beneath the crust of the earth, the Underdark. One of the drow attacked her immediately, and Kiyralynn had no time to block the swing.   
Pain as though she had never felt before burst into her head, blurring her vision and making it hard to stand. She attacked back, the drow falling to her blade in an instant. Another fell soon after, and the third ran in fear. Kiyralynn hit her knees in the middle of the road, the bodies of the drow around her. Sobbing, she tried to wipe the blood from her eyes, but to no avail. She rolled over and muttered a hasty prayer to Corellon, Protector of the Elves, and passed out.  
  
By the time she awoke again, it was dark. She was still lying on her back, pain coursing through her like a river. Looking up at the stars shining above her, she wondered if she was dead yet, for surely the drow's blow had killed her. But no, she was still alive, lying there on the road in agony. She sat up uneasily, every move like another of the dark elf's blows. She pulled herself to the side of the road and set up camp in the dark, enduring the pain. Soon she had a fire lit and consumed herself in closing her wound.  
It was a difficult one, as the drow had struck her on the right side of the face, splitting her face from temple to chin. Every touch stung as she managed to stitch up the wound. Then she sat there for a long time, trying not to fall asleep. She had to be on the alert all night in case the remaining drow returned for the killing blow.   
Highly unlikely, Kiyralynn thought. But still, she stayed awake all night.   
She felt herself nodding off as a noise behind her brought her to a state of alertness. Standing as quickly as she could, Kiyralynn turned around, expecting to see the drow there.   
What she saw was like a drow, but...not!   
Instead there was a tall man who appeared elven, like Kiyralynn. He had shock white hair, like the drow. But his skin was not dark and ebony, but pale and white. He appeared to be almost glowing. Kiyralynn thought surely that she was seeing things, for who would have white hair like a drow except...a drow? Perhaps her wound had effected her head as well, and she stepped backwards, as if in fear.   
The elf in front of her had an almost gruff look about him, as though he had not smiled in years.   
"Who are you and what do you want with me?" Kiyralynn asked hoarsely. The man in front of her did not make any motion to get any nearer to her.  
"What is your name?" He asked. Kiyralynn blinked, because that was a stupid question, but she answered it still.  
"Kiyralynn." She replied.  
"Your whole name." The man growled. Kiyralynn opened her mouth to reply, but found that she could not remember. Thinking back, she realized that she could not remember much of anything at all, just her name and the fact that she had been attacked on the road by three drow. Why she was even out here, on the road, she wasn't sure.  
"I don't know. But I should ask the same of you, stranger." She said.   
"You may call me the Black Archer, for now." He replied shortly. Kiyralynn regarded him coldly.  
"What do you want with me, that you must know my name?" She asked. The Black Archer only shook his head.  
"I have a request of you." He said. Kiyralynn made to shake her head, but the effort only made her head throb even more.  
"A request of me?" She gasped, trying to shake away the pain. The Black Archer nodded grimly.   
"You have been attacked by drow recently, have you?"   
"I think so. That would probably explain what I'm doing out here in the middle of nowhere." Kiyralynn answered bluntly.   
"Drow killed my family years and years ago," The Black Archer said. Kiyralynn raised an eyebrow.  
"I am sorry." She said. She wondered how his family being killed could have anything to do with her.   
"My request is this: find and kill the drow." The Black Archer said gravely. Kiyralynn almost laughed.  
"How am I to do that, Black Archer?" She asked incredulously. The Black Archer did not look humored at all. Kiyralynn dropped her smile immediately.   
"Become one of my priestesses." The Black Archer said. Kiyralynn thought perhaps he were mad as well.  
"Excuse me? Are you a god of some sort?" She asked. To her surprise, he nodded. Kiyralynn's jaw dropped in surprise, but she closed it quickly, due to the pain. She rubbed her chin, removed her hand and looked down at the blood. Kiyralynn grimaced.   
"You would do well as a priestess, I think." The Black Archer mused. Kiyralynn looked up at him.  
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.  
"Who am I? My name is Shevarash. I am the elven god of vengeance."   
Perhaps that explains why he appears to be glowing, Kiyralynn thought. She sighed. "You wish to destroy the drow?"   
"Each and every one." Shevarash snarled.   
"You have good intentions, Shevarash. Yes, I shall join you. For the sake of myself, and for others. These drow will fall before my hand, Lord." Kiyralynn said, bowing.   
"Thank you, Kiyralynn. You are now a true Drowbane cleric, to be in my service for as long as you live. To you, the Midwinter Night shall be the darkest day for you, as that was the day my family was killed. You shall not smile again, until the last drow falls." he paused. Then, nodding to Kiyralynn's bow, he added, "This bow will I enchant, so that every drow it comes across shall be a killing strike. Sleep now, no drow will attack you in the night."   
Shevarash bowed in thanks to Kiyralynn, and walked away without another word. Kiyralynn blinked into the darkness. She sat down then, trying to take in all that her new god had said. She allowed herself to sleep, as Shevarash said.   
In the morning when she awoke, her golden hair was gone, replaced by shock white locks, like Shevarash's. To scare the drow, Kiyralynn realized. Her bow seemed to glow a magical shade of blue; apparently Shevarash had gone through with his promise to enchant it magically. And strangest of all, the wound on Kiyralynn's face was completely healed, leaving only an ugly scar-a reminder of why she was a Drowbane. Her appearance was more chilling than before, and she almost smiled at it, but kept her word to the Black Archer not to.   
She packed up her things and headed down the road again, sure that no drow would attack her this time.  
  
As the years passed, she made her way to a mountainous region, and there she lived, away from civilization, away from people. She was content to finally call that place her home. She practiced her clerical arts there, alone, which suited her just fine. Since she could not remember her own last name-and many other things-she made one for herself, developing a rather regal title: Kiyralynn, Yathrin del Shevaran. She made trips on occasion to the small town below, a place called Twin Forks. She did not like it at all, but sometimes it was required.  
  
In fact, once it even came as a sort of blessing. While there to pick up some things, she came across a young elf. She regarded him curiously, for in Shevarash's religion there was such a thing as the Prophecy, a day when a Shevaran paladin would walk among the Drowbane. This young elf was certainly no Drowbane. Could he be the Prophecy?   
His name was Jaede'in Araestiem.  
  
To be Continued....  



End file.
